The Expert’s Guide to Driving a Man Wild (Bluebonnet #3)(68)
Author: Jessica Clare

“I plan on it,” Elise said. “And I’d like to suggest that you two get a room, but I’m guessing you’re already planning that.”

“Absolutely,” Grant said.

“Bye now,” Brenna said dreamily, not looking at Elise. Her hand slid between them, and she cupped Grant’s erection. “So, are you giving me a ride home? My car’s toast, and your car’s better for blowjobs. Nice big front seat.”

Grant barely heard Elise’s strangled good-bye. Brenna’s hand on his c**k was distracting him a bit too much. He didn’t care that they were on the steps of the bed and breakfast. He didn’t care that they were in downtown Bluebonnet for anyone to see. He did, however, care that her car was dead. “What happened to your car?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care. Take me home?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to protest, that they should retrieve her car because that would be the sensible thing to do. He could get it towed for her, or take a look at it himself and determine what was wrong with it. He wanted to take care of it for her.

But then she squeezed his cock, and he pretty much forgot about everything but taking her home and f**king the hell out of her. “Let’s go home, then.”

Thank God his car was only steps away. Grant wouldn’t have been able to walk far otherwise, not with his raging hard-on. He reluctantly released Brenna long enough to open the passenger-side door for her, and when she slid in the car and he was positive she wasn’t fooling him and wasn’t going to run away, he breathed a sigh of relief, closed the door, and headed to the driver’s side.

As soon as he slid in the car and put his key in the ignition, she reached for his c**k again.

Grant groaned, leaning his head back against the headrest. “Brenna, I won’t be able to drive if you keep grabbing me.”

“Sure you can,” she teased, stroking him through his pants.

He gave her a quelling look. “I love you, but I’m not running off the road because you can’t wait until we get home.”

She bit her lip and gave him an innocent look, moving back to her own seat. She slid her hands between her legs and trapped them between her knees, as if to prove that she’d be good for him. “Better?”

“Not really, but it’ll at least allow me to drive,” he told her. And because she was looking so delicious, he leaned over to kiss her. It was going to be the longest drive ever.

He’d no sooner turned the car around and headed back down the farm road when he heard her give a low, soft moan. His c**k immediately jolted, and he looked over at her.

Brenna had her hands between her legs, and she was rubbing herself through her jeans. Her eyes were closed and she had her head resting on the seat, her expression one of utter pleasure.

“What are you doing?” Other than driving him crazy, of course.

“You won’t let me touch you,” she murmured, her tone blissed out. “So I figured I’ll just touch myself while you drive.”

Ah, f**k. That was incredibly hot. And incredibly, incredibly distracting. He forced himself to stare out the windshield at the road ahead of him. Luckily, Bluebonnet was a small town and the roads in and out weren’t busy. He had a feeling he would have driven anyone nearby off the road, because he swerved again when she made a soft gasp in her throat. “Stop that!”

“I can’t,” Brenna told him. “I need you so bad and you won’t let me touch you.” She gave another shuddering little gasp, and he heard her zipper go down. “Oh God, I am totally wet.”

He groaned, picturing her flesh silky and slick with need.

“Maybe you should touch me,” she offered. “You can keep one hand on the steering wheel, and one hand on me.”

Damn it. He shouldn’t. It wasn’t safe. Common sense warred with need, but when she made another one of those breathless sounds, he slid a hand toward her, his gaze still firmly glued to the road.

She grasped it and dragged his hand between her thighs.

Immediately, his fingers were enveloped by soft, sweet, achingly hot flesh. She was extremely wet, and his own c**k gave a jerk in response, the head already beading with pr**cum and causing his boxers to stick to his skin. The sensation of her slick pu**y around his fingers was driving him mad, and when she tugged at his hand insistently, demanding that he move his fingers, he rubbed, and she went wild.

Brenna cried out, and her nails dug into his forearm. “Oh God, Grant. Keep doing that! You’re so f**king dirty, fingering me while you drive.”

More dirty talk. It made his eyes practically cross with lust when she did that. He was weaving all over the damn road, distracted to hell as he continued to rub her pu**y. It was impossible to drive and pleasure Brenna at the same time, he decided a moment later, and he jerked the car over to the side of the road, pulling off into the grass.

“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly when he slammed the brakes on and threw the car into park. Her glazed eyes watched him, her br**sts heaving with need.

“You want to be pleasured?” he growled. “I’ll f**king pleasure you.”

And he reached over between her legs and threw the seat release. She fell backward with a yelp, almost lying down in the passenger seat.

He bent over her, one arm on her stomach to hold her down, and leaned in to that damp pu**y. “You want me to give you some attention before we get home?”

“Oh yes, yes I do,” she said, her voice shaky with excitement. Her fingers twined in his hair, and instead of pushing him away from her, she pushed his head toward her waiting flesh. She didn’t give a shit that they were on the side of the road, where anyone could find them. His Brenna just did what she wanted, when she wanted.

It was what made her so damn perfect for him.

Grant buried his face between her legs, delighting in her surprised squeal of pleasure. His tongue stroked at the soft lips of her sex, and he lapped at her, tasting her sweetness. She moaned when his tongue slid across the piercing, rubbing it against her clit. He pushed with his tongue, then began to circle slowly, dragging the tip across her sensitized flesh.

Her hands curled into fists and she clutched at him desperately. She was making wild, incoherent noises in the back of her throat, and those were making his c**k so hard that he felt he’d burst. He wasn’t going to make it until they got home. No f**king way. He didn’t give a shit, either. He’d happily change his pants as soon as he got in the door. Didn’t matter. All that mattered was pleasing her.